


Crossed Lines

by PawsforDrameowticEffect



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Original Clans (Warriors)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2018-09-11 02:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8950768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PawsforDrameowticEffect/pseuds/PawsforDrameowticEffect
Summary: A fainthearted warrior, a coddled apprentice, an unprepared medicine cat, and an overburdened deputy from four different Clans uncover a tangled web of plots, secrets, and broken rules that envelops them all.





	1. Chapter 1

Duckpaw fought to keep his paws from breaking into a nervous run. Shellclaw hadn't said anything, but his silence was telling. Pigeonpaw and Silverpaw trotted behind their mentors as well, looking equally keyed up, the three apprentices glancing at each other with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Were this a normal outing, one mentor would be plenty to handle three mature apprentices. It could only be their final assessment.

Duckpaw knew BrightClan territory like the back of his paw. Any other day, he'd have been cheerfully rattling off which would be the best hunting places at sunrise on a newleaf day like today, until Shellclaw told him to shut up or he'd scare the prey. It's not my fault I think out loud, Duckpaw thought, pouting to himself. But that didn't matter now that everything had gone out of his head. He was no good at hunting under pressure. Actually, he was no good at hunting in general, except for snatching fish out of the stream, or the pond near camp. Among the trees, he scared away prey more often than not. It was no wonder he was still an apprentice, while his sisters had been warriors for nearly a moon. He hoped Shellclaw would let him fish for his assessment.

He peered at the other apprentices out of the corner of his eye. Silverpaw noticed and gave him an equally nervous look. Pigeonpaw, however, was staring at the stream as if he could see StarClan.

Suddenly, Shellclaw signaled with his gray-striped tail that it was time to stop. The three warriors turned around to face their apprentices. Brackentail, Silverpaw's mentor, twitched her whiskers with amusement. The heavy brown she-cat sat down on the grass. "As you've obviously guessed, we believe that the three of you have learned enough to take your final assessment."

"And we think you'll all make fine warriors," said Pigeonpaw's mentor, Snowbelly, "so you can stop gaping at us like carp."

Duckpaw turned away to lick his cream-colored flank self-consciously.

Shellclaw purred. "Let's get on with this before you all snap from the tension. Don't worry, we won't ask you to do anything you haven't done before. Pigeonpaw?"

"Huh?" The gray tabby apprentice tore his gaze away from the water for a second.

"Pigeonpaw, focus," Shellclaw scolded. "You want to be a warrior, don't you?"

"Yes," said Pigeonpaw, but before Shellclaw could say anything else, he was staring back at the stream. Duckpaw gave him an odd look, but it went unnoticed.

"To start off," said Brackentail, "we'd like you each to—Pigeonpaw!"

Without warning, the young tom had sprung forward and was galloping toward the riverbank. Duckpaw opened his mouth to shout at him—he wanted to get his assessment over with!—but hesitated. Pigeonpaw was usually the most collected of all of them. What had he seen?

The three warriors lunged after him, just as Pigeonpaw took a flying leap off the bank. He hit the water with a well-practiced dive and began swimming upstream, his narrow body cutting through the gentle current.

Duckpaw scrambled to the riverbank, scanning the river for anything out of place. Nothing caught his eye. But the water was dark, and the slick rocks that were scattered throughout it made it difficult to pick anything out. He felt Silverpaw's presence behind him, also searching.

Snowbelly leaped into the water after Pigeonpaw. But although the warrior could have easily overtaken him, he kept back, flanking his apprentice as if to protect him. Either Snowbelly had seen what he was after, or he trusted his judgement as much as Duckpaw did.

"Oh, StarClan," Brackentail whispered.

"What? What is it?" Duckpaw demanded, forgetting his rank for a moment.

"It's a kit!" Brackentail ran along the bank, looking ready to jump in herself. "It's a kit! Pigeonpaw's got him! Pigeonpaw! Over here!"

Pigeonpaw fixed his teeth in the kit's scruff and held its head above the water. His ear flicked towards Brackentail's call. Paddling laboriously with the extra weight, he swam towards her, with Snowbelly ready to guide him if he faltered.

Brackentail grabbed the kit as soon as he was close enough, while Snowbelly helped Pigeonpaw climb onto the bank. The young tom was shaken and panting heavily. Snowbelly brushed his tail along his apprentice's side as he went to examine the kit.

Brackentail licked the tiny kit frantically. It was a black tom, only two moons old at most. Shellclaw shoved his nose into the kit's fur. "BlazeClan. He's alive."

"He's alive?" Pigeonpaw lifted his head.

Snowbelly nodded. "Good job."

A weak purr came from Pigeonpaw. Duckpaw and Silverpaw came up on either side of him, pressing against his soaked fur and purring with pride.

"That was awesome," whispered Duckpaw. "How'd you see him from so far away?"

"I thought he was a clump of leaves at first," Pigeonpaw admitted. "He's so tiny."

"You reacted so quickly," said Silverpaw, with unabashed admiration.

"Of course," Pigeonpaw replied. "It's part of the code." He let out a small purr. "Anyway, I bet his mother is dying of worry right now. We'd better find her."

"You're right," said Snowbelly. "We'll have to take him back to camp to be looked over, but Patchstar will want to send a patrol to BlazeClan to ask if they're missing a kit."

Duckpaw spotted something on the horizon. "Or," he meowed, "maybe they'll come to us."

He nodded to the pale tabby queen that was loping down the other side of the stream. Her eyes were on the water, and she didn't appear to have noticed them yet.

Shellclaw padded to the very edge of the bank. "Hoy! BlazeClan!" he yowled. "Are you missing a kit?"

The queen froze for an instant, before sprinting forward with renewed energy. "Yes! Do you have him? Is he okay?"

Shellclaw glanced back. The kit was shivering and hacking up water. "Well, he's alive."

The kit blinked up at Brackentail. "Hey," he mewed weakly, "you're not my mother."

Brackentail purred. "Your mother is coming for you right now. Don't worry."

"But who're you?"

"I'm Brackentail. You're in BrightClan."

"BrightClan?" A warbled growl came from the little tom's throat. "Did you steal me? I'll claw your fur off!"

"He's fine," Shellclaw called to the kit's mother.

Snowbelly squinted at the cat on the other side of the stream. "Rosefeather? Hey, aren't you—"

"MY KIT! MY KIT!"

All eyes turned to the fluffy black tom barreling towards his mate. His eyes were wild and his stocky legs were moving twice as fast as Rosefeather's had, and yet he was still far behind her. He skidded to a stop and almost fell over when he saw the BrightClan cats across the river. "YOU!" he roared with all the air he had left. "YOU...YOU STOLE MY KIT!"

"Dear, I think they saved him," Rosefeather said calmly.

"What?" He gawked at her, chest heaving.

"Look, those two are soaking wet," she said, nodding towards Pigeonpaw and Snowbelly. "I think they jumped in to save Seedkit."

"What?" The black cat stared at Pigeonpaw, who squirmed uncomfortably.

"Your son is fine," Shellclaw called. "And BrightClan has its own kits, thank you very much."

Seedkit looked proud. "That's my dad!" he squeaked.

Brackentail twitched her whiskers.

"I love my dad," the kit went on. "My dad's name is Beetlestar, 'cause he's the leader of the whoooole Clan. That means everyone else has to do what he says."

"He sure is," said Brackentail. She looked at the two BlazeClan cats, who were edging towards the water uncertainly. "Would you like help swimming across?"

"Yes, thank you," said Rosefeather, but her mate tensed up.

Shellclaw waved his tail at Duckpaw, who understood. Catching Rosefeather's eye, Duckpaw padded over to the river and hopped in. He had nearly reached the other side when Beetlestar flung himself into the water and began to scrabble desperately.

Duckpaw paused, treading water. He looked to Rosefeather in confusion.

"Please help him," she said.

Duckpaw paddled around to Beetlestar's flank and nudged him forward. The hefty tom tried to shove him away at first, but eventually accepted the help and allowed him to guide him to the bank.

Snowbelly gripped Beetlestar's scruff and hauled him ashore while Duckpaw returned to help Rosefeather. She was much more compliant—not to mention a better swimmer. Duckpaw suppressed a purr at the image of the distinguised BlazeClan leader flapping at the water in a stubborn frenzy.

"Hi, Dad!" Seedkit chirped.

"You," growled Beetlestar, "are in a lot of trouble."

The tiny kit shrank even smaller.

"Every queen in the Clan has told you not to go to the river alone."

"But I was thirsty!"

"Then you ask someone to go with you."

Seedkit slouched. "Yeah...I know."

"We can deal with this later," said Rosefeather. She looked at the BrightClan cats with deep gratitude. "Thank you. StarClan must have sent you here to save our kit."

"It was Pigeonpaw who spotted him," Snowbelly said. "He has a keen eye."

Pigeonpaw squirmed even more at his mentor's praise.

"Pigeonpaw," said Beetlestar, "you will make a fine warrior. BlazeClan is in debt to you."

"Warrior!" Pigeonpaw blurted out. Then he hunched his shoulders in embarrassment. "I-I mean, I was supposed to have my assessment today. I'll get to it!" He hopped up and showed a determined face to his mentor.

Snowbelly purred. "I don't think that'll be necessary."

"What?" Pigeonpaw froze.

"While the rest of us were focused on a test, you were behaving like a real warrior," Snowbelly said. "Come on, let's give our report to Patchstar." He wrapped his tail around Pigeonpaw's shoulders and led him back the way they came, towards camp. There was a noticeable spring in Pigeonpaw's step.

"I'll escort you to the border," said Brackentail to the BlazeClan cats. "Our patrol will want to know what you're doing here. Besides, I think Seedkit likes me."

"Do not, you filthy kit-stealer!" Seedkit raised his spiky, drenched hackles.

"Seedkit! Manners!" Beetlestar scolded.

"You said I didn't have to be polite to cats from another Clan!"

"I never said anything like that!"

"You did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

Rosefeather leaned closer to Duckpaw and whispered, "He really is a good leader, I swear." Duckpaw stifled a purr and watched the four cats leave, beginning the long trek upstream.

Silverpaw and Duckpaw looked at each other, suddenly breathless. Silverpaw's eyes were alight. "Wasn't Pigeonpaw amazing?"

"Yeah," Duckpaw agreed, and mewed more quietly, "Wasn't Beetlestar a mouse-brain?"

They both purred under their breath. "Pigeon's going to be a warrior," said Silverpaw. "Wow."

Shellclaw twitched his tail. "Yes, he's going to be a warrior. But neither of you will be, if we don't get on with your assessments. Come on, you two. Let's go."


	2. Chapter 2

Seedpaw's wide yellow eyes studied the crowd of cats all around him. Fewer than half of the pelts were familiar to him. It was his first Gathering, and even though he knew all the other new apprentices would be just as anxious, he still felt out of place among all the older cats.

He pressed against the soft, reddish-brown pelt of his mentor, Hollybranch. She pressed back. "Can you tell me which cats are the leaders?" she whispered.

Seedpaw turned his attention to the large rock in the center of the cave, grateful for the distraction. His father lay on the flat rock face, flexing his claws. Beside him was a she-cat nearly white with age, yet her joints were supple as stretched out on the rock, silently surveying the crowds below. She looked comfortable and unworried. Clearly she had been here many times before.

"The gray cat beside my father...is that Sheepstar?"

Hollybranch nodded. "Leader of PeakClan. A noble cat."

"Are PeakClan our allies?" Seedpaw asked.

Hollybranch tipped her head, half agreeing. "They aren't our enemies."

Next, Seedpaw spotted a big black she-cat pacing at the base of the rock, thick pelt rippling over her sturdy frame. She seemed impatient. "Who's that?" Seedpaw asked. "I don't remember you telling me about a leader who looked like that."

"That's Loudstorm, the WildClan medicine cat. I wonder where Icestar is." Hollybranch craned her neck to see over the crowd. "Maybe he didn't come."

Seedpaw narrowed his eyes. "I thought leaders had to come to Gatherings."

"They do. But Icestar has never...well...he's a bit different." She shifted her paws. "I don't see BrightClan yet. Do you remember who their leader is?"

"Patchstar, right?"

"Good." She squinted in approval. "While we're waiting, why don't you go find some apprentices from the other Clans? It'll be a good opportunity to learn to recognize their scents."

Seedpaw looks unsure. "How will I know who's who? All those WildClan cats are huge!"

"Those two aren't." Hollybranch waved her tail at a ginger tom who was batting playfully at a tortoiseshell's ears.

"I don't know...I think they're still bigger than me."

Hollybranch purred. "Well, all right, then. I guess you'll still be learning plenty tonight. You can socialize next time."

"I wish Poppykit was here," Seedpaw said. Poppykit was a moon younger than him, and had been his best friend in the nursery.

"By the next Gathering, he'll be Poppypaw, and I bet if you ask Beetlestar he'll let both of you come."

Seedpaw perked up his ears. "Yeah! Okay. Thank you."

Hollybranch nodded, and her attention went to the mouth of the cave. "Look, there's BrightClan now."

A wave of pelts descended into the cave, their bodies temporarily blocking the light of the full moon. Leading the pack was a a pale ginger tom. As the BrightClan cats filled in the rest of the available space, a wiry tabby split off from the group and padded towards Seedpaw.

Hollybranch narrowed her eyes. "Who's this?"

The tom dipped his head in greeting and approached them cautiously. "Seedkit? Is that you?"

"Seedpaw," he corrected, ruffling his fur.

"Right! Yes. You would be a 'paw, if you're at a gathering. Has it been four moons already?"

"Who are you?" Hollybranch demanded.

"Oh! I'm Pigeonfoot!" he mewed. "I pulled Seedpaw out of the river when he was a kit!"  
Hollybranch's hackles fell immediately. "Beetlestar told me about you! BlazeClan thanks you for your bravery."

Pigeonfoot ducked his head shyly. "It's part of the warrior code. Every Clan looks out for kits as if they were their own. Anyway, I swim all the time."

"You swim?" Seedpaw couldn't hide his astonishment. "In water?"

"Yes, in water!" Pigeonfoot's chest rumbled.

"Why?"

"Well, why not?"

"Because it's wet!"

"So?" Pigeonfoot flicked his tail. "I love it. It feels like flying."

"It's still weird," Seedpaw grumbled.

Pigeonfoot squinted cheerfully. "You haven't changed much since my clanmates and I pulled you out of the water and you called us filthy kit-stealers."

Seedpaw wilted. "I said that? I'm sorry."

"You were just a kit! We all thought it was funny."

His ears perked. "Thank you for saving me, Pigeonfoot."

"Hey, after I pulled you out of the river, my mentor didn't make me take my final assessment. Thank you."

Seedpaw curled his tail around his feet and purred.

A yowl came from the Great Rock. The Gathering was about to officially begin. "May I sit with you?" Pigeonfoot asked, and Seedpaw and Hollybranch nodded.

The pale ginger tom was now standing on the rock with Beetlestar and Sheepstar, but there was still no sign of the WildClan leader. Sheepstar rose and stood at the edge of the rock. "If WildClan has no representative, then let us proceed with the announcements."

The crowd was silent. At last, a powerful brown cat rose to his feet and leaped onto the Great Rock. Lying down between Sheepstar and the ginger tom, he crossed his striped forelegs, muscular shoulders bulging under his sleek pelt. "Yes," he rumbled. "Let us proceed."

The leaders were quiet for a moment, as if not sure what to do. Then Sheepstar dipped her head. "Beetlestar?"

Another brief hesitation, and Beetlestar stepped forward. "BlazeClan is well," he called out to the congregation. "Greenleaf has brought plenty of prey. Robinfeather has joined the nursery, and Deerstep has had three healthy, beautiful kits." His tail waved and his paws kneaded the ground in an open display of happiness, as all the cats murmured their congratulations.

"And," Beetlestar continued, looking even more pleased, "we have two new apprentices. My daughter, Sorrelpaw, and my son, Seedpaw!"

Seedpaw felt his father's eyes on him, as well as the eyes of several strangers, as the cats chanted the apprentices' new names. He wished his sister could have been there to share the attention, but she had turned down the invitation to stay in the quiet of the camp. He understood. Sorrelpaw had been anxious in front of her own Clan at her apprenticeship ceremony; in front of three other Clans, she would have been mortified.

Beetlestar sat down, and once again all eyes were on the huge tom representing WildClan. But he simply nodded to Sheepstar, and the graceful leader came forward once more.

"Prey is plentiful in PeakClan as well," she called, her clear voice echoing in the enclosed space. "But we are a Clan in mourning. Webwhisker, our medicine cat, was attacked by a fox a quarter moon ago while collecting herbs. He fought bravely, and drove the fox away before any of our warriors could reach him. However, he succumbed to his wounds, leaving his apprentice, Sunpaw, to care for the Clan. She asked to be excluded from this gathering as she is still mourning her mentor. But we are confident StarClan will guide her, and her kind heart and sharp mind will serve our Clan well."

A ripple of sadness went through the crowd. Seedpaw had only met Webwhisker once, when he came to BlazeClan to borrow some herbs, but he remembered how the Clan had greeted him warmly rather than suspiciously. Webwhisker treated them all with respect, regardless of age, rank or Clan. It seemed unfair that such a goodhearted cat had to be taken away so suddenly.

Sheepstar lowered her head for a moment, and the other leaders did the same, paying their respects. Then Sheepstar sat down, and once again the WildClan tom deflected attention.

The ginger cat stood up. "I am Goldstripe, deputy of BrightClan," he said. "The greenleaf rain has brought pain to Patchstar's joints, and she has asked me to address the Clans in her place. It is the price she must pay for her many moons of wisdom."

There were a few mutterings from the crowd, but they were quickly silenced when Goldstripe spoke again. "BrightClan is peaceful. There is little to report, except that Silverpool has brought three new kits to the nursery."

There was a new wave of congratulations. Pigeonfoot squirmed beside Seedpaw, looking pleased. Hollybranch nudged him with her tail, and Seedpaw realized the kits must be his. He purred loudly and bumped against Pigeonfoot's shoulder.

Finally, there was no one left to speak except for the WildClan tom. He rose to his feet, towering above the other three cats.

"Icestar is no longer our leader," he said. "Both my Clan and StarClan have accepted me as his successor. I am Oakstar, leader of WildClan."

Confusion swept through the crowd. Oakstar waited patiently until they quieted down.

"We recognize that our Clan, under Icestar's guidance, has caused much pain and suffering to our neighbors. As you all know, under the warrior code, a leader's word is law. Nevertheless, we regret the actions we were forced to take in order to stay loyal to the code, and we apologize."

The crowd broke into a murmur yet again, with a few yowls of anger rising above the rest. Seedpaw leaned closer to Hollybranch and whispered, "What did Icestar do?"

"I'll tell you all about it later," she replied.

"We do not ask for your trust," Oakstar continued, raising his voice against the din. "Only for your forgiveness. But I hope it puts your minds to rest knowing that WildClan has no intentions of causing any other Clan more unnecessary grief."

With that, Oakstar bowed his head and stepped back. The crowd erupted into a hundred conversations, echoing off the walls of the cave until they were deafening. Seedpaw's ears began to ring. Hollybranch and Pigeonfoot both looked stunned.

Seedpaw shook his head and swiped at his ears, feeling lightheaded. The noise seemed to grow louder by the second. He stood up and started stumbling towards the mouth of the cave.

"Seedpaw, are you okay?" asked Hollybranch from somewhere behind him.

Seedpaw didn't answer. He just had to get out of this cave. He scrambled up the slope until he felt cool, fresh air on his face, and the scents of a hundred cats faded into the background.

He breathed deeply, blinking up at the full moon. The sky was cloudless. Hollybranch had told him that StarClan sent clouds to cover the moon if they were displeased. If Oakstar had been lying about not wanting to cause trouble, would StarClan have covered the moon?

He heard pawsteps behind him and looked around to see Cricketleg, the BlazeClan medicine cat, padding out of the cave. "Are you all right? Beetlestar saw you run out of the cave and sent me to check on you."

"I'm fine," he said. "Where's Hollybranch?"

"Still trapped in the sea of pelts." The fawn tom sat down beside him.

"Then how'd you get out?"

"Cats move aside for a medicine cat." He swished his tail. "It's one of the perks."

Seedpaw was quiet for a moment. He had a lot of questions, and he knew Cricketleg might be more candid with him than Hollybranch. "Are you sad about Webwhisker?" he asked.

Cricketleg's tail stopped mid-swish. "Yes," he said. "He was an excellent medicine cat. And Sunpaw isn't ready to be without him."

"What happens to her now?"

Cricketleg took a deep breath. "StarClan will guide her. And the rest of the medicine cats will be by her side as well."

Seeing the faraway look in Cricketleg's eyes, Seedpaw hoped he would still keep answering questions. He waited a moment before asking, "What did Icestar do?"

"Icestar did a lot of things," said Cricketleg, seeming grateful to change the subject. "He started as a good leader, who wanted nothing more than to protect his Clan from threats. The trouble was, he started seeing everything as threats."

"Yeah, but what did he do?"

"There were false accusations. Unwarranted attacks. That sort of thing. He stopped going to Gatherings when he thought the other Clans were spying on him. The last straw was when he attacked BrightClan during leaf-bare, while half of them were fighting greencough."

"Fox-heart," Seedpaw muttered. He had never seen a cat with greencough, but Poppykit had come down with a late case of whitecough a few moons ago, and that seemed bad enough to him. He could hardly imagine if half of his Clan had it.

"So, one Gathering, and you're already all interested in politics." Cricketleg looked amused.

"My dad says I could be leader someday," Seedpaw replied. "So I have to start learning about all the other Clans."

"It's about to get interesting, that's for sure." Cricketleg looked up at the moon. "With Oakstar taking over, and Patchstar growing weaker, things are sure to change."

"Do you think Oakstar is trouble?"

"I don't think so. He'll have enough on his paws rebuilding his own Clan. But that doesn't mean we should let our guard down."

Seedpaw mulled that over for a minute or so. Then he mewed excitedly, "At my next gathering, I'm going to talk to all the other apprentices. I want to know what it's like in all the other Clans."

"That's a good thing to aspire to," said Cricketleg, "if you want to be leader someday."

At the sound of other pawsteps, the two cats turned around. Beetlestar was leading BlazeClan out of the cave. He puffed out his chest at the sight of his son. "Seedpaw! How did you like your first Gathering?"

"It was noisy," Seedpaw replied.

Beetlestar let out a hearty purr. "That it was. You'll get used to it." He brushed his tail along Seedpaw's flank. "I bet you can't wait to get back to your nest."

There was a deep tiredness in Seedpaw's chest that he had been fighting for a while now. He agreed, and slipped into place among the rippling pelts of his clanmates.


	3. Chapter 3

Sunpaw crouched in the medicine den, sifting through a pile of dried bee balm on the red stone shelves. She had been through all the herbs at least three times already, but it was something to do. The den felt strangely empty.

"Sunpaw?"

She turned around at the sound of the familiar mew. Cricketleg stood in the entrance, peering in. Sunpaw motioned him in with her tail.

He padded up to her softly. "Sheepstar announced it at the gathering. I'm so sorry."

Sunpaw didn't speak. Her paws trembled.

Cricketleg sat down beside her and rested his chin on top of her head. She leaned into his chest. Her breath was ragged.

"I couldn't help him," she said weakly.

"Sometimes you can't," he mewed. "Sometimes there's nothing you can do."

"I know," she said. "I just don't understand why StarClan would let this happen."

"I don't understand it either, love."

"You shouldn't call me that." She moved away from him. "Cats will think we're breaking the warrior code."

"But we're not. Isn't that enough?"

"Did you come all the way here just for this?"

Cricketleg curled his tail around his feet, looking hurt. "I came here because StarClan sent me a vision."

"What kind of vision?"

"Webwhisker came to me," he said, and Sunpaw immediately sat up straighter. "He wants me to take you to the Moontree and give you your name."

The breath rushed out of her chest. "But I don't think I'm ready!"

"StarClan thinks you are."

She squeezed her eyes shut and breathed in. "I suppose I can't argue with that, can I?"

Cricketleg squinted, leaned forward and rasped his tongue over the bridge of her nose. She flicked him away with her tail and stood up. "Do you need traveling herbs?"

"No, I had some before I came here."

Sunpaw mixed enough herbs for herself and choked them down. The two cats left the den and padded through the PeakClan camp.

The camp was a wide-open space settled in a dip between the rolling hills that made up PeakClan territory. Two queens and their kits, and a few warriors, were stretched out on the slabs of warm red stone that were scattered across the camp. Frogkit and Beekit spotted the two medicine cats and scampered up to them.

"Who are you?" Beekit asked, with all the subtlety of a rockfall.

"I'm Cricketleg," he replied. "I'm another medicine cat."

"There are other medicine cats?" Frogkit was in awe.

"Of course there are. One for each Clan. Sometimes more than one."

"Whoa!" The two kits were wide-eyed. Cricketleg purred.

"Does Sheepstar know we're leaving?" Sunpaw asked him. He told her yes, he had informed the leader as soon as he arrived, so they left the camp without further delay.

The greenleaf sun beat down on the bare hills of the territory. Aside from a few scrubby trees and bushes, there was no shade. Cricketleg shook his thin pelt. "Whew! How do you cats stand the heat?"

"How do you stand being in a dark forest all day?" Sunpaw retorted.

Cricketleg snorted. He glanced back at the camp, quickly vanishing behind the hills. "Sunpaw?"

"Yes?"

"May I ask you a question?"

"You asked me two already. I guess there's no stopping you."

"Hypothetically...if we were in the same Clan, and we weren't medicine cats..."

"I see where this is going."

"Do you think we would be mates?"

"There isn't a good answer to that, is there?" Sunpaw said flatly. "If I said no, you'd be hurt. If I said yes, we'd get caught up in what can't be. Either way, at least one of us ends up distracted from taking care of our Clans. And that's what we pledged to do, above anything else. Take care of our Clans."

Cricketleg dipped his head. "You're right."

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "Anyway, is it really appropriate for you to be talking to an apprentice like this?"

He scoffed. "I know queens who are younger than you. Medicine cat training takes a long time."

She tilted her head in acknowledgement.

They reached the crest of a hill and found themselves looking down over all four territories. The winding stream was what connected them all. It began at the mountains behind PeakClan, curved around to cradle the overgrown woods of Wildclan and the open forest of BlazeClan, and then twisted the other way to end in a pond that encircled BrightClan. Across the stream from BlazeClan, in an open grassland, was the abandoned cave carved out by Twolegs where the Clans gathered on the full moon. The Moontree, where they went to share dreams with StarClan, was across from WildClan territory.

Sunpaw took a deep breath and started down the hill. "They say there are no borders in StarClan, though."

Cricketleg purred. "I can wait for that."

The trip to the crossing point in the stream took until it was nearly sunset. The crossing point was a wide, but shallow section where the current couldn't sweep them away, so the two cats gathered themselves and splashed across it as quickly as they could. Then they hurried through the grass to the ancient, wizened tree that towered over the otherwise featureless land.

The Moontree was long dead, probably uprooted by a storm, but still standing crookedly. Its roots, some as thick as a cat's body, formed a protected crevice in the ground not unlike the nursery in PeakClan. Sunpaw and Cricketleg climbed down into the hole beneath the Moontree just as the sun's last rays disappeared over the tallest hills of PeakClan.

Sunpaw curled up in a hollow in the ground with her back touching one of the great tree's roots. The packed dirt was cool after many moons of being sheltered from the sun. Tucking her nose under her tail, she slipped into a dream.

When she awoke, she felt grass under her paws. Opening her eyes, she looked around at the glittering landscape of StarClan. The land was bare, with rolling hills much like her home in PeakClan. Not for the first time, she wondered if cats from other Clans saw StarClan differently.

Turning around, she found herself face-to-face with a large white tom, his long fur glistening as if if embedded with stars. His pink-rimmed eyes were full of delight as he looked at her.

"Webwhisker!" Sunpaw buried her face in her mentor's chest fur.

"Sunpaw." He rested his muzzle on her head. "I'm sorry your apprenticeship had to end so abruptly."

"I guess StarClan wanted you all to themselves," she said, and they both purred.

Then Webwhisker stepped back. "PeakClan is lucky to have you as their medicine cat."

Sunpaw choked. "But I'm not ready to do it alone!"

"You won't be alone." He looked at her warmly. "All of StarClan will be with you."

"All of StarClan won't be there to correct me if I use the wrong herbs, or show me where the right ones grow, or let me lean on them when everything I do isn't enough."

"You think too little of yourself." He flicked her with his tail. "If none of this had happened, you still would've been given your name by the next half-moon."

"You really think I'm ready?" Sunpaw's eyes widened.

Webwhisker nodded.

"Then will you give me my name now?"

"Your calling is among the living," he said. "It's only fitting that your ceremony is given by the living. I have entrusted Cricketleg with that responsibility. He will be a great ally to you these first few moons, and for many moons after that."

Disappointment welled in Sunpaw's chest. She had been dreaming about receiving her full name from her mentor ever since she was first apprenticed. But, at the same time, she was glad Cricketleg would be a part of it.

"There is one thing I get to do, though," Webwhisker said, "and that's give you your first prophecy as a medicine cat."

Sunpaw's ears perked up. A prophecy?

Webwhisker's eyes emptied into a trancelike state. "Mind the small storms, for every avalanche is made of a million snowflakes."

Sunpaw's mouth began to form a question, even though she knew she would get no answers. But it didn't matter, because the starry world around her was already fading into the land of the living.

Her eyes opened, and she was once again lying in the cool chamber under the Moontree. She lifted her head and saw Cricketleg stirring beside her.

Sunpaw sat up. "Webwhisker told me you would perform my naming ceremony."

Cricketleg's green eyes sparked in the darkness. He turned his gaze to the dawn sky, visible through a gap in the roots. "I, Cricketleg, medicine cat of BlazeClan, call upon our warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice. She has trained passionately in the ways of a medicine cat, and with your guidance she will watch over her Clan for many moons."

Sunpaw filled with pride as he continued. He looked into her eyes. "Sunpaw, do you pledge to uphold the code of the medicine cats, to transcend the rivalry that separates the Clans, and to protect all cats equally, even at the cost of your own life?"

"I do," Sunpaw breathed.

"Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your true name. Sunpaw, from this moment forward you will be known as Sunheart. StarClan honors your empathy and your strength of mind, and we welcome you as a full medicine cat of Blaze—I mean, PeakClan."

Sunheart let out a chirp of excitement and relief. Cricketleg rested his muzzle on her head, and she licked his shoulder, not just because it was tradition, but with genuine affection.

Presently, Cricketleg pulled back and looked her in the eye again. "I'll hold off on the chanting your name. It would seem a little weird with only one cat doing it."

She purred and bumped her head against his chest. "Just a bit."

"We'll do it next half-moon. Loudstorm, Snailnose and Sparrowpaw will all want to welcome you properly."

"That's still several days away. Do you think StarClan will recognize a ceremony that's split so far apart?"

"None of this is very traditional. I think StarClan will understand." He tilted his head. "Did you talk to Webwhisker?"

"I'm not supposed to tell you about my visions, am I?" she teased. "After all, you are from a different Clan."

"You just pledged to transcend those borders," he retorted.

She flicked him with her tail. "Yes, I talked to him. He gave me a prophecy."

"Really?" His eyes widened. "I received a prophecy, too. I wonder if it's the same one?"

Sunheart's eyes widened as well at the thought of a prophecy so big, it encircled more than one Clan. Given the nature of it, that didn't seem like a good thing. "We'd better not discuss it for now, in case it isn't the same. If it's meant to involve both our Clans, StarClan will tell us next half-moon."


	4. Chapter 4

The WildClan patrol clawed their way over the rotting log and trotted back to the border, unhindered by the thick undergrowth. The warriors had trained since kithood to navigate through the half-decayed forest and prided themselves on being the strongest and most agile of the Clans.

And it doesn't matter what that mouse-brained BrightClan cat said, thought Hawkscreech. Just because we climb, doesn't make us squirrels.

He growled to himself as the patrol detoured around a dead bramble bush. By that logic, BrightClan cats must be fish. Swimming, now that's unnatural. The nerve of that cat.

Busy fuming, Hawkscreech was taken off guard when Antlerclaw raised his tail to stop the patrol. The big tom lifted his golden head to sniff the air. "I smell BlazeClan."

"I smell it too," Gingerstrike said. "Not a scent marker, either."

"Someone's crossed the border," Antlerclaw hissed, storming forward.

Hawkscreech cut him off with a wave of his tail. "I'm leading this patrol," he growled. "And besides that, I'm your deputy. We will handle this diplomatically. WildClan doesn't need any more fights."

Antlerclaw lowered his tail, his face expressionless. But Hawkscreech heard him mutter, "WildClan doesn't need to be trampled like grass, either."

Choosing to ignore the remark, Hawkscreech led the patrol forward, following the smell of BlazeClan. As they grew closer, he caught the tang of herbs clinging to the tresspasser's own scent. A medicine cat. Hawkscreech breathed a silent sigh of relief.

A moment later, they spotted the fawn tom crouching under a fallen branch. "Cricketleg!" Hawkscreech called sternly. "What are you doing on our territory?"

Cricketleg dipped his head to the patrol. "My apologies. Robinfeather has been taken ill, and I'm out of juniper berries. May I speak to Loudstorm? She often has a surplus."

Hawkscreech grunted and motioned with his tail for him to come along. "You need an apprentice, Cricketleg."

"I'm waiting for the right cat to come along," he replied brightly. "StarClan will let me know."

The medicine cat fell into step with the WildClan warriors as comfortably if he had trained with them all his life. He was a stark contrast to their broad shoulders and long, thick pelts. Gingerstrike padded up next to him, trying to be subtle. "What's wrong with Robinfeather?" he mewed.

"Fatigue, bit of a bellyache," Cricketleg replied. "Nothing serious."

Gingerstrike nodded, with a look of forced disinterest. Hawkscreech made a note to question him later; he was forming a theory as to why the tom smelled of foxdung all the time. Although, he thought, there probably isn't much I can do about it at this point. Maybe I should turn a blind eye. No use causing trouble.

Antlerclaw seemed to be stifling purrs of laughter all the way back to the camp, whenever Cricketleg stumbled or got his pelt caught in a bush. Hawkscreech kept shooting him warning glances. At last, they made it back to camp.

The WildClan camp was built around a tree older than the Clans themselves, its overhanging branches providing shelter, and the wall of brambles around the trunk keeping out intruders. Hawkscreech led the patrol through the bramble tunnel, nodded to Cricketleg, and watched the medicine cat trot towards Loudstorm's den under the tree's roots.

Hawkscreech dismissed the patrol with a wave of his tail. He watched Gingerstrike bound over to Turtlefur, bump foreheads with her, and rub against her purring like a kit. The two had been all over each other for a moon. Half the Clan was waiting for an announcement about kits. Again, Hawkscreech briefly considered questioning Gingerstrike, but the idea of getting caught in the middle of an ugly domestic argument quickly turned him off it.

Oakstar emerged from his den next to Loudstorm's, an expectant look in his green eyes. Hawkscreech tipped his head to him and padded forward to give his report.

Before he could take three pawsteps, Antlerclaw had barged in front of him. "BlazeClan crossed the border," the young tom blurted out.

Oakstar looked weary. "Step back, son, and let my deputy give the report."

Antlerclaw's jaw tensed, but he obeyed his father. Hawkscreech shouldered him aside.

"Yes, there was a BlazeClan cat on our side of the border, but it was only Cricketleg," he explained. "He needed juniper berries, so we brought him back to Loudstorm."

Oakstar nodded. "Good. Let him see that our camp has been rebuilt. He'll bring word of our strength back to his clanmates."

"But before that," Antlerclaw interrupted, "there was BlazeClan scent a few pawsteps over the border. And from the smell of it, they tried to disguise themselves with fox dung. Eugh." He curled his lip.

"It was only a few pawsteps." Hawkscreech raised his voice in annoyance. "And there were no signs of stolen prey. It's possible some cat stepped in fox dung by mistake, the stench overwhelmed our scent markers, and they didn't realize they had crossed the border." He kept his real suspicions to himself; there was nothing to gain by making wild accusations.

Antlerclaw flexed his claws while Oakstar considered. "We will ignore it for now," he said. "The next gathering is in half a moon. If we find evidence of repeated border crossing, we can question BlazeClan then."

Both toms were satisfied by that. Oakstar dismissed them with a wave of his tail.

Hawkscreech headed over to the fresh-kill pile. His stomach had been grumbling since halfway through the patrol. Half the Clan seemed to have had their pick already—there was nothing left but a small sparrow and a scrawny mouse. His tail twitched as he decided which was bigger.

"Not much to choose from, huh, foxface?"

He glanced up to see a small ginger tabby stretched out on the ground, giving him a smug look over her shoulder. It was Gingerstrike's sister, Fireleap. She was a petite version of her brother, the only difference being her white mask and blue eyes lit with mischief. Hawkscreech rolled his eyes.

"Re-lax. You know I'd never insult you without a good deed to balance it out." She moved her paws and revealed a fat squirrel. "Just got back from hunting. Wanna share?"

Hawkscreech only thought about it for a moment. He was hungry enough to put up with a little fur-ruffling. Silently, he padded over and stretched out beside her.

Once Fireleap had taken the first bite, he sunk his teeth into the juicy meat, his mood lifting as soon as it hit his tongue. He chewed, swallowed, and went for another bite. Fireleap looked amused.

Hawkscreech froze mid-chew. Swallowing, he said, "I shouldn't be eating this. The fresh-kill pile is nearly empty. The Clan should be fed first."

"You're part of the Clan, dummy!" She flicked him with her tail. "Don't worry, the patrol brought back more than this. The rest's been eaten already."

He felt a flicker of surprise in his chest. "Were you waiting for me?"

She tilted her head coyly. "Mmmmaybe."

Not sure what to say, Hawkscreech ducked his head and pushed the squirrel towards her. "Here, you eat some," he mumbled.

Purring lightly, she bent her head and took a bite.

Hawkscreech was too shy to say anything until the squirrel was nothing but bones and he had no excuse to stay anymore. He could feel Fireleap's bright eyes watching him, and it set off sparks in his belly. Reluctantly, he hauled himself to his feet. "I should make sure Cricketleg has an escort back to BlazeClan."

"Cricketleg already left, mouse-brain." Fireleap's chest rumbled with laughter. "Didn't you notice? He and Antlerclaw set off a few minutes ago."

Hawkscreech's fur bristled with embarrassment. "Then I'll check with Loudstorm to make sure he hasn't depleted her supplies." He whipped around and padded off with hurried steps, trying to ignore Fireleap's purring behind him.

He poked his head between the roots into the medicine cat den. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he scanned the crowded den for Loudstorm.

"What do you want?" a voice snapped beside him. He jumped sideways and looked up at the bulky black she-cat.

There was no shame in being afraid of Loudstorm; even Oakstar's deep voice turned to a squeak when she caught him off guard. Only the kits and apprentices, who hadn't learned to fear her yet, dared to approach her for anything less than a missing limb. Hawkscreech eased away from her and avoided eye contact.

"I was just checking to make sure Cricketleg didn't make off with all your supplies," he mewed.

Loudstorm grunted. "What kind of a fox-hearted medicine cat would do that? Of course he left enough. Do you know nothing about the medicine cat code?"

Hawkscreech thought it was better not to defend himself. "Okay. Tell me if you need more of anything. I can send Rainwing out looking; she knows a lot of herbs."

He breathed a sigh of relief when Loudstorm seemed pleased. "It's about time someone offered to help. I'm up to my ears in work." She stalked into her den and sniffed each of the sleeping cats, examining their wounds. Most of them were healing up well, but a few broken bones and infections had complicated things.

Hawkscreech turned to leave, but Loudstorm signaled to him with her tail. "Wait. I want to talk to you."

Curiosity sprang up in his belly, along with a little apprehension. He hung back uncomfortably while she finished examining her patients.

Finally she stalked out and sat down in front of him. "I want an apprentice."

"You...what? Oh." Hawkscreech curled his tail around his feet, trying to hide his surprise. He could hardly imagine Loudstorm as a mentor, even though she'd obviously have to be one eventually. Gathering himself again, he said, "Of course. I'll let Oakstar know. Do you have any cat in m—"

"Quietpaw."

"Oh. Um. Okay. Quietpaw." He thought of the young, shy, white-furred apprentice who was currently failing all her battle training. On the one hand, she clearly didn't have the skills of a warrior. On the other hand...Loudstorm and Quietpaw? Even their names were at odds!

"Your enthusiasm is encouraging," Loudstorm drawled.

"I, uh, I—" Hawkscreech swallowed. How to put this? "You have to understand, I have some concerns about Quietpaw, she doesn't have much confidence and I'm not sure she could handle the pressure of—"

"Why don't you ask her?" She pointed her nose at the other side of the camp, where Quietpaw was dragging a wad of old bedding out of the elders' den.

Hawkscreech cleared his throat. "Quietpaw!"

Quietpaw looked up, her eyes widening in shock when she saw who was calling her. She dropped the bedding and stepped forward a little hesitantly.

"Would you like to be the new medicine cat apprentice?"

The little cat's face changed. She gave a tiny hop. Then she sprinted towards them at full tilt, stopping just short of Loudstorm and squeaking, "Yes!" before cuddling up so close to the medicine cat's chest that she practically disappeared in her long thick fur.

Dumbfounded, Hawkscreech took a moment to gather himself while Loudstorm licked the top of Quietpaw's head. Finally he stuttered, "Okay. I'll tell Oakstar and we'll perform the ceremony right away. Congratulations, Quietpaw."

"Thank you!" her small voice called after him as he turned away. Unable to make heads or tails of anything, Hawkscreech decided to check on the camp repairs.

As he padded around the trunk of the massive, wizened tree that they called home, he listened to the voices of his Clanmates all around him. A long, rambling story about foxes with antlers came from the elders' den, interrupted by the skeptical mews of an apprentice. From the warriors' den came hearty purrs of approval as they recounted tales of elusive prey and cunning enemies. A curious kit scrambled down the ramp leading to the nest of branches that made up the nursery, before its mother grabbed it by the scruff and hauled it back in. Hawkscreech breathed a sigh of relief. His Clan was healing.

At last he reached the empty apprentices' den. It wasn't empty for lack of apprentices, but because of the gaping hole gouged through the roof and sides. Not long ago, the bramble walls that enclosed this part of the camp had been in a similar state, but the Clan had risen to the occasion like birds on wing and re-fortified the camp in a matter of days. At least, with the walls repaired, they could begin to feel safe again.

Hawkscreech felt his paw fall into an indentation in the ground. He looked down at the clear print of a cloven hoof, gouged deep into what used to be mud. Closing his eyes against the memories, he found he couldn't fight them off.

It was Icestar's last act. He had slipped out of camp one day, muttering about borders and scent markers, and managed to disappear before his deputy could catch up with him. Somewhere along the way, he came across a fawn hidden away from its mother. Icestar, in a paranoid fog, mistook the fawn for an intruder and scored it with his claws, only to nearly be trampled when its mother heard its cry of pain and gave chase.

The deputy had tried to herd Icestar and the furious doe away from the camp, but Icestar streaked through the entrance and brought the hulking creature with him. In the chaos that ensued, much of the camp had been trampled, and Icestar and his noble deputy were both killed. Also lost was Oakstar's youngest daughter, Mottlepaw, who had been sleeping in the apprentices' den at the time and couldn't escape fast enough.

A mixture of unease and relief came with Icestar's passing. The mad leader had left his illness behind when he joined StarClan, and could no longer lead WildClan to destruction. Shortly after, the Clan had elected the pacifistic Oakstar to lead in his place, hoping for peace and time to heal. The other Clans never knew what had happened to Icestar.

And they never would.


	5. Chapter 5

It was sunup, and BrightClan was preparing to send out the first patrols of the day.

Goldstripe directed the cats with gestures of his tail. "Sharpheart, take Brackentail, Tigerspeckle, Larkpaw and Otterpaw and patrol the border from here to the corner of BlazeClan territory. Snowbelly, take Pigeonfoot, Squirrelstep and Heronpaw and patrol the outermost border."

"May I lead a hunting patrol?" Shellclaw asked.

Goldstripe nodded. He turned his head and coughed hoarsely before looking back at Shellclaw. "Pick whoever you want to go with you."

Duckfeather tried to avert his eyes, hoping Shellclaw wouldn't notice him. Why couldn't Goldstripe have picked him to go on the border patrol? He probably wouldn't have had to fight anything; the borders had been quiet for moons. At least then he wouldn't have to show what a soft-muscled warrior he was.

"Let's see...I'll take Mistpool, Meadowwhisper, and...Duckfeather."

He let out the breath he'd been holding. Of course.

Before Duckfeather could join the patrol, Snailnose the medicine cat snagged his pelt with a gentle claw. "Hey, Duckfeather. If you're headed out, do me a favor and dig up some burdock root. Tigerspeckle says she saw a rat's nest a ways behind the nursery. It never hurts to be prepared."

"Sure," Duckfeather said, glad he wouldn't have to come back empty-pawed if he failed to catch any prey. Sometimes he wondered if he should've been a medicine cat, but then he remembered when Meadowwhisper had dislocated her shoulder and Snailnose had to pop it back in place. Just thinking about it made his entire body wince.

Snailnose noticed the young warrior's discomfort and gave him a kind look. Duckfeather tipped his chin up in silent thanks, before Meadowwhisper called to him and he had to rush to catch up with the patrol.

"What did Snailnose want?" asked his littermate. "Trying to rope you into another one of his endless stories?"

Duckfeather let out a snort of laughter. "Nah, he asked me to look for burdock root while I'm out."

"Why doesn't he send Sparrowpaw to fetch some? Isn't that what an apprentice is for?"

"But Sparrowpaw's only been training for a moon. He might go looking for burdock and come back with cattails."

"Ah." She rolled her eyes. "Still, it seems strange to ask a warrior to do it."

"I don't mind." He wouldn't admit it to Meadowwhisper, but he liked being asked for favors around the camp. It made him feel useful. Even fetching bedding for the elders was a welcome chore.

Still, he'd do his best to feed his Clan like any other warrior. He had managed to earn his warrior name, after all, so he wasn't completely incompetent.

Fortunately, Shellclaw decided it was a good day for fishing. The patrol headed towards the mouth of the river where it fed into the pond, and the fish would be forced to swim right into their hungry paws. Each cat chose a rock to perch on, and sat down to watch and wait.

Shellclaw and Mistpool settled down on the same rock, their pelts brushing as their eyes darted around at the swirling water. Duckfeather and Meadowwhisper exchanged a look. She pretended to gag and he stifled a purr. The two had been mates for seasons now, and they still clung to each other like burrs.

After a couple of minutes of waiting, Duckfeather proudly hooked the first catch of the day: a bluegill as big as his head. He purred with pleasure and relief at the other cats' mews of congratulations. It felt good to catch something to be proud of.

By mid-morning the patrol had accumulated a small pile of fresh-kill on the riverbank. Duckfeather had caught another minnow and was feeling very pleased with himself. Shellclaw stretched his stiff legs. "Well, gang, shall we head back now? That's enough to feed the queens and the elders. Or are you itching to chase something?"

Duckfeather's stomach churned, but then he remembered his promise. "I told Snailnose I would look for some burdock," he said. "It usually grows in the forest."

Shellclaw nodded. "To the forest, then. The rest of us can hunt while you're looking. Feel free to head back to camp when you're ready."

They leaped to the shore to gather their fresh-kill. Duckfeather's tail swished with happiness when he saw the bluegill again. "I'll take it to the nursery," he said. "Petalwing will love it."

Meadowwhisper cooed her agreement. Petalwing, their other littermate, had moved to the nursery shortly after her warrior ceremony and was expecting her kits any day now.

Padding into the forest, Shellclaw brushed his tail along his mate's side. "Coming, love?"

Mistpool's face was downcast and distracted. "I think I'll go with Duckfeather. I'm too tired to hunt," she said in her usual ghostly mew.

He hesitated, looking disappointed. "Okay. See you back at camp."

Duckfeather shrugged. He would rather have hunted for the herb alone, but Mistpool was an unobtrusive cat. He flicked his tail in concession and trotted off into the forest.

"What does burdock look like?" Mistpool asked as she caught up to him.

"It's a tallish thistle with frilly leaves," he told her. "It grows better away from the river, where it's drier."

She didn't reply, but Duckfeather assumed she'd be keeping an eye out.

It wasn't long before he spotted a thicket that looked promising. Parting his lips, he drew in a long breath, and caught a whiff of the sharp-smelling herb. He turned to Mistpool. "You can start heading back if you want. I can smell some burdock over there."

She murmured an inaudible reply and changed her path with swaying steps, her mottled tail trailing listlessly behind her like a frond caught in the current.

Once she was out of sight, Duckfeather shook his head. Whatever Shellclaw saw in her, he must've had to look pretty deep.

He dug up a few of the burdock roots, cleaned the dirt from his paws and made his way back to camp. It was really a beautiful day, he thought, with the sun filtering through the trees to warm his pelt, and the songs of a dozen birds filling his ears. This was only his second newleaf, and for most of his first he'd been too young to remember much about it. He caught himself springing a little with each step.

The spring was still there when he reached the camp. He didn't realize it until he saw Larkpaw and Otterpaw sniggering at him from the fresh-kill pile. Ducking his head shyly, he slunk to the medicine den.

Sparrowpaw was there to greet him in the bramble-framed entrance. The skinny brown tabby chirped a greeting. "Hi, Duckfeather! Whatcha got there?" He sniffed the bundle of roots in Duckfeather's mouth. "Don't tell me, don't tell me! Is it comfrey root?"

Duckfeather dropped the roots at his feet. "Burdock. Good guess, though."

"Burdock!" the apprentice exclaimed. He spat in frustration. "I should know that! I just threw out some shriveled burdock yesterday."

"Go easy on yourself. When I was apprenticed, it took me two moons to learn the difference between a trout and a salmon." Duckfeather flicked Sparrowpaw's ear affectionately. "Do me a favor and tell Snailnose I brought him the roots, would you?"

"Sure—just don't tell him I thought they were comfrey, okay?"

"You got it." He waved his tail in goodbye and headed for the fresh-kill pile to see if his bluegill was still there.

It was. He stopped to admire it for a moment, ignoring the stifled purrs of Larkpaw and Otterpaw. Sinking his teeth into its tail, he dragged the fish over to the nursery.

Before he even entered the den, he heard a familiar high-pitched mew that made his shoulders tense up in anticipation. Squeezing his eyes shut, he shouldered his way through the broad leaves that shaded the entrance.

A chorus of hasty meows greeted him immediately. "Look, it's Duckfeather!" Silverpool said to her kits. "And he's brought us some fish!"

"Ducky!" the three she-kits squealed. He dropped the fish quickly before they could swarm him. Swirlkit got to him first, hurling herself at his leg and latching on like her life depended on it. He pretended to be bowled over, and when Ashkit and Flowerkit caught up, he flopped over on his side with a playful yowl of defeat.

A tongue rasped over his ear, and he looked up into the round, cream-furred face of his sister Petalwing. She squinted with delight. He scrambled to his feet. "Hi, Petalwing! How are you feeling?"

She snorted. "Still pregnant, if that's what you mean."

"Well, I can see that," he scoffed. "I meant other than that."

"Hmmm..." She spoke through her teeth. "Fat, hot and tired?"

"Have you spoken to their father yet?"

She groaned. "I told you to let it go, Ducky. He's not going to be involved. And I'm fine with that."

"Don't you think he might change his mind?" He spoke under his breath, with his face hidden from the kits. "I mean, you're going to be giving birth soon. Don't you think he might decide he wants to be here for you?"

"Trust me, having him crammed in here while I'm pumping out kits is the last thing either of us wants."

"At least tell me who he is, so I can claw his ears off for loving and leaving my sister."

"Ducky!" She batted at his ears. "Not in front of the kits!"

"Heh—sorry," he said sheepishly. "Here, I brought you and Silverpool some fresh-kill. Caught it myself."

She perked up her ears and sniffed at the fat green fish on the nursery floor. A second later, a look of revulsion came over her, but it had nothing to do with the fresh-kill.

"Anyway," said the high-pitched mew from the other side of the den, "as I was saying..."

Duckfeather shot a glance over his shoulder at the brown she-cat in the corner. "What's Nutfur doing here?" he hissed. "She's not expecting, is she?"

"Great StarClan, I hope not," Petalwing hissed back.

"I just don't know what we're going to do, with no leader and no deputy," Nutfur went on as if nothing had interrupted her. "StarClan knows, it's not as if Patchstar can make any important decisions—she's practically senile."

"That's why we have Goldstripe," Silverpool pointed out calmly.

"But we won't," Nutfur insisted.

"What's happening to Goldstripe?" Duckfeather blurted out before he could stop himself.

The she-cat looked thrilled to have a fresh pair of ears in her audience. "Haven't you heard that awful cough of his? That's greencough—I remember the sound exactly, that's how my mother sounded the first time she had greencough, you know, and even after she recovered she was never the same after that. She couldn't run fast enough to catch a simple squirrel without getting all breathless; had to settle for fishing, and she couldn't hardly get all the way around the borders anymore either. Anyway, I was talking about Goldstripe. He's definitely got greencough, I'm sure of it."

"Don't you think, if he had greencough," Silverpool said, "Snailnose would have noticed it by now, and called him off his duties?"

"Snailnose? Ha!" Nutfur rolled her eyes. "What does that mouse-brain know? I don't trust his herbs as far as I can flick them with my tail."

"You think you know more about medicine than Snailnose?" Petalwing asked dryly.

"I think I understand Snailnose a little better than most cats," came the rapid-fire response. "It's his job to heal cats, isn't it? And any cat wants to look like he's good at his job, doesn't he? But he won't look good at his job if he takes on patients who already have one foot in StarClan—no, losing patients doesn't look good at all, no matter how many dead leaves and slobbery bits of plant you shove down their throats. But then, sitting around doing nothing doesn't look good either. That's why he makes a big fuss over pulling every little thorn from our paws and smearing useless herbs on scratches that would heal on their own without his help. Then, when the patient gets better, he can claim it was all his doing. You know what I say? I say we can pull our own thorns!"

Petalwing shot Duckfeather a look of bitter regret. He cringed sympathetically.

While Nutfur continued her rant, Duckfeather scanned the nursery for some way to distract her. He was surprised to spot Mistpool crouched in an empty nest in the farthest corner, batting around a ball of moss for the kits to chase. She was so quiet, he hadn't noticed her when he came in. He caught her eye and struck a playful pose, motioning for her to toss him the moss-ball.

She flicked it in his direction and he pounced on it like a kit. Ashkit, Swirlkit and Flowerkit were ecstatic to see him joining in the game, and stumbled towards him like three-legged rabbits.

Aiming carefully, Duckfeather flicked the ball of moss with his paw. It hit Nutfur in the eye—she shook her head and gave him an irritated look, but hardly paused in her jabbering.

A second later, all three kits crashed into her at top speed. They all toppled over in a heap of fur and limbs, flailing helplessly in the air. Silverpool rose to her feet, trying to hide her obvious enjoyment. Duckfeather helped her untangle her kits from the pile.

"Sorry about that," he mewed cheerfully.

"No trouble, no trouble," Nutfur purred. "Aren't they precious?"

He batted the moss-ball back to Mistpool and watched the kits, unhurt and undeterred, gallop after it. The pale tortoiseshell caught it under one paw and tossed it aside again without moving from her crouch. Her face had remained unchanged throughout the ordeal, but her eyes were fixed intensely on the kits as they tussled, and Duckfeather was taken off guard by the sadness he saw there.

He looked away, and his gaze landed on Nutfur. Her eyes, too, were fixed on the kits, but the look on her face was different. It was more than longing—almost hunger.

Duckfeather felt a deep uneasiness come over him. He rasped his tongue over his sister's ear and ducked out of the crowded nursery before Nutfur could pick up where she left off.


End file.
